


Looking At You

by Louhime



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drama, Fights, Gen, Head Injury, Injury, Love, M/M, Worry, concussion, dream-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhime/pseuds/Louhime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princes are hard to change. Princes don't like being confused or torn. Arthur gets to see a glimpse of something that changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking At You

**Author's Note:**

> Righty ho, this is a work of fiction by moi and yadda yadda. 
> 
> If you don't like the thought of two men being together in a romantic or sexual way, off you trot! Door's on your right. 
> 
> Please don't read if it upsets you. Warnings at the end. 
> 
> But if you like it please be as loud and congratulatory as you like. I really do encourage this in my readers, however few there are :) 
> 
> Well on with the show! Enjoy.

Arthur saw a flash, an image in his head just for an instant, one instant. But he knew he wanted it.

 

It was the great hall filled to the brim with people, knights and servants, nobility and common folk together laughing, dancing, they filled the air with sweet song and joy. The golden light filtering in though the open windows filled the room with warmth and the scents of spring. He was walking towards the dais, the five thrones before him gleaming with loving care.

 

On the smallest sat a small girl no older than eight, with startling sunny sky eyes. She was in a robust dress, designed to withstand the adventures of a mischievous child, a calm blue with a sash of gauzy silver at her waist embroidered with shimmering golden dragons.

 

The hem was slightly grubby revealing the tykes latest endeavour, her bare toes peeking from beneath the fabric, her skin had a healthy shine that spoke of hours in the sun. Her hair was twirled into simple braids entwined with flowers little flashes of powdery blue and Pendragon crimson hanging behind her ears. And around her brow was a simple circlet of silver with larkspur and forget-me-nots engraved around its length.

 

Around both wrists were delicate chains of gold and silver, both had pendants hanging from them, the gold one was the symbol for precious and the silver the symbol for miracle, both of them gleamed in the soft light.

 

On the next was a teenaged boy, sitting regal and calm, strong broad shoulders and with a trim-waist, elbows on the arm rests and long elegant fingers crossed, the index fingers extended  the tips touching his lips. He was garbed in a tunic of Pendragon crimson with a thick belt engraved with dragons and creeping vines over a pair of woolen trousers.

 

His eyes, a serene steel blue with sparks of gold set into his angular face made him handsome. His features were softened by an indulgent smile directed towards his younger sibling, but it was taut with a wicked hint, knowing something the younger girl did not yet know. Around his neck was a cord worn proudly, one pendant was the druidic symbol standing for warrior the other was a silver crescent moon.

 

 His hair was so dark it almost absorbed the light around it, curled slightly giving him a boyish air, and circling his brow was a band of gold polished until it shone in the afternoon light. Edged with silver twirling vines were etched lovingly into the light metal. On his belt he wore a sword, broad and fierce the scabbard adorned with the same vines as his belt and half of the Pendragon crest.

 

In front of the tallest of the three stood a tall lithe man of about twenty, his stance strong and proud. He wore a long, thick, brown cloak, the hem licking at his heels, covering a long cream tunic embroidered with silver and gold threads. His legs were encased in fine black riding trousers slightly padded from knee to ankle, over them he wore well-worn black riding boots.

 

At his waist were two over lapping belts plain and unadorned but for the two silver buckles engraved with the Pendragon crest. On one belt was a polished slender blade. On the scabbard were the same creeping vines as his brother’s and the other half of the Pendragon crest. The other belt had a dagger and short sword. They had scabbards of lacquered black and in the surface of each pommel were golden suns and in the locket of the scabbard was the druidic symbol for leader, sharp commanding lines and rounded strokes.

 

Both of the boys’ weapons looked well-loved and cared for. His hair, gleaming like spun gold just brushed his shoulders, straight and smooth. His eyes were a stormy sapphire set in aristocratic features, lips quirked up into a wry grin. And on his head rested the band that had been worn by many generations of Crown Prince, the very same band that had circled Arthur's own head, the large golden band was shining, around each stud was a flowing vine.

 

All of them looked perfect and happy. Arthur marveled at them, at how they reminded him of someone. He looked behind them to the proud line of thrones.

 

The little girl’s throne was made of a silvery white wood, carved with racing mares and stallions, bodies shining, forever playing in a field full of flowers, larkspur, forget-me-nots, tulips, daisies and roses all in everlasting bloom.

 

The teenaged boy’s throne was made of a light brown timber with veins of the darkest of blacks, it was carved with entwined symbols and runes, twisting and flowing curves and lines. They seemed to shift and dance when the light hit them.

 

The oldest of the three’s was a deep red, with golden hints it was ornately carved with the same weapons he wore at his waist, they were encircled by a lazily twisting, flowing shape. It was a favour, a sign of a young maidens love and luck.

 

The two largest thrones, standing tall, were the most stunning pieces of the lot. They each had a central image, the rest of the throne simple.

 

Made of a pale timber they shone in the light with a gentle blue hue. On the taller of the two carved into the smooth wood was a coin, and on it in exquisite detail was a bird of prey, the Merlin, each feather distinct, keen watchful eyes. On the smaller was the other side of the coin, carved his name sake, a bear, ferocious and regal, all rippling strength and beastly presence.

 

In front of them all stood someone with the poise of a king, the ethereal grace of the Sidhe, the commanding presence of a god, wearing the goofiest smile possible. He was garbed in a tunic of powder blue, the sleeves wrapped tightly around his arms and wrists, around his legs were thick woolen riding trousers ending in sturdy walking boots, laced up his calves. On his left hand was a thin band of white gold, not engraved but well-worn and loved. On his right thumb was the official ring of the Kings Consort, it was a thick silver ring engraved with the Pendragon crest.

 

The man was tall and lithe; power seemed to gently ripple the air around him, filling the space with a welcoming embrace. His face was angular but handsome, little curls of midnight hair above larger-than-average ears lead to a crown of silver, a slim ornately carved band with twisting branches and leaves interspersed with all manner of flora and fauna, hidden until it was close enough. But before all of that was noticed, the brightest pair of clear blue eyes, their exact shade unnameable as they seemed to shift and swirl with the mood of the world around him, captured Arthur’s gaze and saw through and into him, all of him, knowing and understanding before a word was spoken.

 

He continued towards the dais, the children smiling brightly at him. The crowds of people quieted and smoothly parted before him but Arthur's gaze was only on the people at the top of the hall. He marveled to himself how it was possible that these children, these wonderful enchanting mixtures of the two of them existed.  

 

One of Merlin’s hands stretched out towards him fingers slightly curled in invitation. The other was resting on the gentle swell of his belly. Merlin’s near manic grin turned into a gentle smile as he glanced at the movement and was amazed at the three wonderful, beautiful, and impossible children, _their children_ and that there was to be one more.

 

Not one of them would be alone or overlooked with siblings to look out for them. Arthur thought of his own childhood, still moving slowly with all the precision of ceremony, a lonely time where the only other children were little lords and future barons and not a one of them wanted to know him, just wanted to have the favour of the future king.

 

Arthur saw all the happiness they had, all the love and closeness he remembered seeing when he visited Hunith, the love they shared the same as what Merlin and his mother shared.  Merlin’s lips moved softly, mouthing words he wasn’t sure of. The noise of the crowd seemed to suddenly rush back in, the spell on the people in front of him fading; the children’s mouths began moving too.

 

He squinted and figured it out, the children whispered “Father” and then he realised what Merlin was saying, “My love, my King” and finally “Arthur”

 

Over and over again his name spilled from Merlin’s lips, starting soft and getting louder and harsher. Arthur frowned. Why Merlin would need to shout, there was no danger, no great worry.

 

The world around him began to shimmer, the edges of the room falling out, the people disappearing. The walls of the Great Hall bleeding into green instead of the grey stone, the roof was torn away and a vibrant starlit sky appeared in its place. The chatter and songs of a people at peace filtered out and in its place harsh grunts and muted screams blasted his ears. The world was making no sense, and fear wormed itself into his heart.

 

Arthur ran towards his family, desperate to hold onto them so that whatever sorcery was taking place couldn’t take them away from him.  But they too began to blur, fade away.

 

Starting with the smallest, Arthur’s feet were pounding into the floor but he didn’t seem to be moving, terror pushing his feet faster.  She smiled brightly and waved innocently at him, the dragons on her sash wriggling and moving off the material and winding around her, turning her into smoke.

 

The boy, Arthur locked eyes with the boy and saw as the runes began pulling off the throne behind his head and began pasting themselves to his pale, pale skin branding it black and cold. He smiled crookedly, he blinked and the boy was gone, neither child nor throne left behind.

 

The eldest bowed to him, confusion began to bleed into the all-consuming terror, and he began to step towards Arthur but the vines on his crown began to unfurl, gaining a green hue and sprouting verdant blooms as they wound around him, delicately covering his body, until he too disappeared.

 

Merlin and the baby were the only ones left, his peaceful smile had turned into a panic filled grimace and the well-kept clothes melted into a familiar battered brown jacket and torn blue tunic and grimy trousers, the crown turned into reflected moonlight in his hair and scrapes appeared on his face.  The bump sunk back into his lithe form, smoothing out the line of his body once again. 

 

Arthur became aware of exhaustion pounding behind his eyes and a stinging pain down his side. The world suddenly tilted, he was lying flat on the ground, a worried battle weary Merlin above him. His frantically moving mouth not seeming to make a noise and his wide golden eyes fixed on Arthur's side.

 

A nerveless hand reached for Merlin’s face and Arthur could hear his voice coming back to him, filtered as though through water.

 

“Arthur! Can you hear me? God, Arthur, answer me!” He screamed.

 

Arthur replied with a croaky, dry voice “Y-you… always looked so pretty in blue”

 

His body crumpled in relief and disbelief “Oh god, you idiot! How… wha... you’re okay, you’re going to be okay, you have to be, you prat! Oh god this is a lot of blood!”

 

Arthur spoke again, this time it came out strangled “The baby?” Merlin frowned

 

“Baby? What baby, Arthur you’re not making sense!” He replied back sounding panicked. Wide golden eyes seemed to stretch wider, almost comically so. So he began giggling.

 

 “If they get any wider they’re going to fall out!” Arthur slurred and giggled again.

 

Merlin lifted one dirt-encrusted hand to Arthur’s skull. The long fingers began carding through the strands touching gently, searchingly. The other stayed on his side, warm tingles began in the skin beneath it and he knew that Merlin was healing the gore.

 

“Arthur this is important, you have to answer the best you can. Did you get hit in the head? Try to remember, please Arthur it’s important.” He pleaded, looking so saddened that the giggles petered out leaving his throat even dryer.

 

“I….I,” Arthur’s forehead furrowed as he thought back trying so hard because Merlin looked so lost and sad and he wanted him to smile again. Just like he did in the Great Hall, Arthur’s throat clicked painfully as he spoke “I…don’t,” Merlin’s face fell and a memory flashed behind his eyes “I did, Merlin I did! The man came up too fast to dodge, a lance if I remember correctly” Arthur opened his eyes not aware of when he closed them and found Merlin smiling shakily at him. That was better.

 

He sighed and spoke “That’s good, Arthur, that you remember. That’s good.” Merlin smiled stronger this time and continued “Trust you to have a serious head injury and remember what type of weapon caused it”

 

His smile turned gentle, loving. His eyes began to water, making the gold shimmer. He leant down to Arthur and rested his forehead against his almost too gently to be felt and closed his eyes. The fingers in Arthur’s hair rested placidly against his skull and cradled it. Arthur felt comforted by him, the strange world that existed in his head fading to unimportance. The hand he had reached to him lay against Merlin’s neck, simply waiting on the skin for the next instruction. So he gave it one.

 

Arthur’s fingers tightened and pulled Merlin’s lips to his own. It wasn’t the most perfect kiss they had ever shared, nor the most desperate. It tasted like dirt and sweat and blood. It tasted like fear and anger and relief.

 

Nevertheless, it was the most reassuring.

 

“No more shadows, Merlin.” He rasped out.

 

Merlin brow furrowed and he jerked back a little “Whatever do you mean Arthur? Do you need me to get Gaius?” he asked.

 

Arthur locked eyes with the man who meant everything to him and spoke more seriously than he had ever done in his whole life.

 

“I want to have you standing beside me for the rest of time, Merlin. I want to have everything with you and anyone who protests with any reason will taste the sharp edge of my sword down their throat and I don’t care who knows it. I was cruel to ask you to stay in the shadows as if we had something to be ashamed of. Now I know where it is where you belong, in the light, in my arms and by my side. Will you accept me, all of my faults of which there are many I realise, and spend your life with me, as my Consort?”

 

Arthur finished speaking and held his breath.Merlin’s face was immobile, shock and confusion whirling in his eyes.

 

Then familiar goofy grin appeared on his face.

 

“Of course, you prat! Of course I will!”

**Author's Note:**

> Alludes to two men having sex to produce children, and having a stable and committed relationship. 
> 
> Mentions minor head injuries and minimal mention of a unspecific side wound. 
> 
> Not really much else, but do mention it to me if you think there is something else I should add.


End file.
